


Pals don't suck each other's dicks

by asgardianthot



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Dom/sub Undertones, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 22:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18456143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asgardianthot/pseuds/asgardianthot
Summary: It's the 1940's and Steve Rogers' pants grow tight for his best pal Bucky.





	Pals don't suck each other's dicks

He knew. For God's sake, he knew. And there wasn't much I could do about it except get my pants all wet while I was dreaming, fantasize about him kissing me and telling me things I had never known I wanted any person to tell me; funny how the mind works when no one can peek through your impure thoughts. The absolute worst part was the lack of reciprocation. Bucky knew I longed for him but had never actually confirmed it to me, leaving me with the clear and undirected answer that he was not interested, perhaps even disgusted. Who wouldn't be? Bucky liked girls. He dated pretty ladies and tried to get me to date them, never talking about my suspicions, never clarifying if he pretended to be clueless or in fact wasn't aware of my hots for him. I knew it was the first option, though.

My feet were dangling off the one high stool we kept near the kitchen counter -our pockets far too empty to redecorate our apartment whatsoever- when it started to happen. My throat had begun shutting down a little a minute before, when I was picking up the coffee beans I had spilled all over the floor, after the odor and effort to clean up before Bucky saw what a mess I was. I hated when he had to help me reach the top shelf, even if it meant I ended screwing up like this.

As I tried to compose myself, I regretted the decision to climb on that stool. My breath was already caught up in my throat; doing any sort of effort to sit and calm down now sounded like the biggest oxymoron I'd played, played by the biggest moron in history, yours truly. However those self-deprecating thoughts began to matter way less when I started coughing, my elbows holding me in place by keeping my weight on the counter.

I heard footsteps when the coughing got worse.

"You okay, pal?" Bucky asked, failing to conceal the worry in his voice.

I nodded, however my choked up asthma attack saying the exact opposite. I could feel the heat radiating from my face and guessed the excessive coughing was turning me bright red, which made it so obvious when Bucky walked up to me with concern plastered in his eyes. He was wearing nothing but his briefs and under tank top and had walked out from the bathroom, meaning he had come running in the middle of getting dressed. I felt like a burden when he did those things.

"I'm..." I attempted to get the words out properly but was immediately stopped by the need to take a big, very shaky, puff of air. "...fine."

Difficult to buy.

I decided I'd try to help myself out of that situation, no need from him, practically naked in front of me, yet the second I tried to get off that stool, I failed to get a grasp on myself and fell, and would have gone face-first to the floor if Bucky hadn't caught me in his arms.

"Come on." He helped me sit on the floor, head resting on the counter and him kneeling down in front of me. "Look at me, don't move. Deep breaths."

I did what he asked. How could I not? When he stared at me with those penetrating clear eyes, calming me down with one hand on my shoulder to give me support. I took big, complicated breaths and shut my eyes.

"Do you need the injection?" He asked.

I shook my head, still not looking at him. "I'm... better." I said truthfully, but wheezing still hearable in my lungs.

He waited for it to stop, for my coughing to diminish until it didn't exist, for my breath to catch up, my throat to expand to its regular size. It took a few long minutes, but he waited.

-

"You don't have to." I insisted.

The sun had fully set and my small room was feeling smaller with him in it. When he moved in with me, Bucky forced me to take my parent's room in order for him to take my own; he said I should take the bigger room and needed to sleep on their bed until it wasn't theirs anymore, until it became mine and I forgot I had any reminiscence of grief attached to simple objects.

Indeed, it was my bed. But tonight it was his as well, for he informed me he'd be keeping an eye on me that night and I had no say in it whatsoever. He knew my asthma came in days; some days were good, some were bad, and therefore worried that I might relapse during my sleep.

"I told you, I wanna make sure you're okay." Bucky said, not facing me as he got rid of his shirt.

My dirty, soul-less thoughts came back, ogling him and his stiff back, almost glistening muscles with the contrast of the dim lights outside and dark room. I was already under the covers, just staring at him get undressed and climb on my bed as if trying to torture me on purpose.

"I  _am_  okay." I mumbled.

I was lying. I was absolutely not okay with him shirtless and almost naked right on the other side of the mattress, inches away from me and sharing my covers. He turned his back on me and accommodated himself without even a slight look.

"Good night, Steve." He chanted, ending the conversation.

The night went on dangerously slow. Bucky blacked out quickly, leaving me to wonder around in bed, eventually staring at him rise his chest up and down. Sleep had flipped his body where he was face up at the ceiling, and I did my best to keep the same posture until I found myself laying on my side, contemplating him and unable to shift my eyes off of his features. I wished I could just turn on the lights to get a better look.

It wasn't fair. He had to tell me if he knew about my feelings or not. It wasn't fair that he took care of me and made me breakfast and calmed me down when I had an asthma attack but didn't have the courage to just end my misery by just saying _I know and don't feel the same way, forget about it and move on_ or maybe _I know and feel the same way_ or even _I didn't know, now I do_. It wasn't too hard. Except for the fact I might make our living situation awkward, he could feel disgusted by me... perhaps he already was and it killed me not to know.

The more I stared at him the more my stomach twisted. I imagined him sleeping like that every night with me, holding me in his arms, kissing me passionately in the morning, caressing my body...

"Damn you, Buck." I let out in the smallest whisper.

I could sense my briefs get tighter, nothing to do about it. I couldn't just take care of it right next to him, that was unimaginable. But, God, did I want  _him_  to take care of it. Peacefully on his back, breathing regularly through his nose, his perfect chin taking the foreground in the beauty of his face, naked chest inviting me to rest my hands on it...

I couldn't do this anymore. I took one big breath of courage and proceeded to shift closer to his body, to the point where our legs touched and his face was inches away from mine. I could just lower my head and kiss him. The free hand that wasn't holding me up went to his cheek and held his clean shaven face for dear life. I kissed his jaw a few times and seconds later, he moved under my touch.

"Huh?" He questioned, not entirely sure if he was dreaming or not.

He was confused as to why I was doing that, but wasn't flinching. I stopped to lock our eyes.

"Steve." He let out, not as confused nor sleepy.

My only response was to trail my palm down to his exposed chest, ready for him to give me a proper answer.

"What are you doing?"

His voice was low and hoarse, yet there was no discomfort detectable in it. Perhaps I wasn't so mistaken.

"Can you just... go with it?" I pleaded, whispering like someone might catch us sinning in the apartment no one else lived at; after bowing down closer to his, I added a clarification. "Unless you don't want this."

He didn't say a word. He didn't look upset, but he wasn't giving me one of his classic smirks that drove me mad. However by the look of his parted lips and expectant eyes, he was waiting for me to close that gap. I did, pressing my lips against his, delicately, my hand shifting back up at his cheek. And he kissed me back. I swear on any grave, he kissed me back.

I moved my hips on top of his, unable to make this slow or make him wait for it.  _I_  couldn't wait for it. I'm sure I seemed so needy it was pathetic, but all I could care about at that moment was his gaze on me as I pulled my top over my head, like he was curious about my next step. I returned my lips to his as I straddled him with my hips, and he could obviously feel my hard-on and yet didn't say a word. He merely slipped his tongue into my mouth, placed his hands on my hip and let me do the rest of the work. A few seconds in, I felt him grow bigger beneath his briefs.

As I rocked back and forth with my lips and hips, our breaths became heavier. I was pleasuring Bucky all the while pleasuring myself with him, and that thought alone could have made my heart stop. The sounds of his panting and groaning into my mouth was all I had ever wanted and more.

"I wasn't sure." He sighed out when I detached our lips to kiss his neck. "... I thought... but I wasn't..."

He was unable to finish his sentence as I sucked in sensitive skin and probably left a mark on his neck. Continuingly and taking advantage of our silence, I began lowering my position, and even though Bucky was surprised, he didn't hesitate to help me by throwing the covers away.

I kissed his abdomen, making it flex. "Tell me if not doing it right." I informed him, excitement building up in my stomach just as much as it visibly did in his.

As I slid the fabric down, his erection popped up in front of my face, turning it into everything I could concentrate on. I justifiably hesitated no longer to take a hold of his member and wet my lips to wrap them around. All I was able to do was exactly what I would like to have done to me, licking his swollen tip before bobbing down with my whole mouth.

Another bob down and Bucky was shivering.

“Holy-“ He tried to muffle a moan that was tempting to escape his throat. “Shit, Steve.”

I took it off my mouth slowly, beginning to pump with my right hand as I kissed his hipbone. He was shutting his eyes tightly, his limbs still and somewhat at shock, except for his hips which were bucking up every once in a while as he panted.

“Tell me what you want.” I asked him dearly.

Bucky proceeded to rest his weigh on his elbows so that he could see me. He swallowed hard before responding. “I want… your mouth.”

It appeared as if he were no longer expecting what I was planning to do, he wasn’t taken aback but actually was about to engage in the decision-making. I started to lick him up and down, earning a few groans and satisfaction noises here and there, then taking his full-length to the point where I almost made myself gag.

“Sh-  _Fuck_ , just like that.” He stuttered, tongue rolling out like he was tipsy on rum.

However I couldn’t help but keep wanting to hear his desires. “Do you like it?” I genuinely asked, wishing I didn’t come off as a creep or anything.

He let out a sigh of laughter, still not opening his eyes. “I love it. Don’t stop.”

I kept going for a while, taking in every piece of information he gave me through moans and hitching breath, using it as guidance to do exactly what he wanted; however it came a time where I couldn’t contain myself any longer, and needed to have done to me what  _I_ wanted, instead.

“Buck?” I asked, crawling up his body slowly until I reached his face; I gathered up the last piece of bravery I had remaining in order to ask the following question. “Can you touch me?”

He smirked up at me and grabbed the back of my neck strongly, puling me down to kiss me with lust and power and determination. “I can do much more than that, Doll.”

This time he didn’t merely contribute to the decision-making; he began taking full control over it. And I let him, because I had fantasized about him doing exactly that to me so many nights. His arms were quick to flip me on my side to the bed, leaving us in a position where I had my back to him and he was holding me from behind, pressing his boner on my bum. He started kissing my neck roughly.

“Take 'em off.” He demanded me in a gentle voice, motioning to my briefs.

I complied, needy for him to stroke me to oblivion. That was exactly what he did, leaving painful hickeys on my sensitive skin while his hand moved slowly, but his grip was tight. I let out big puffs of air, concealing my need to whimper under his palms until I couldn’t anymore, and I had to bite my lip and stiffen my jaw, helplessly and involuntarily letting out moans.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked, dirty Brooklyn accent breaking in, turning the  _you_ ’s into  _ya_ ’s, adding to the whole Bucky effect.

I didn’t even have time to be taken aback by his offer, for the idea was so tempting I suddenly felt like I would die if Bucky  _didn’t_  fuck me. I nodded profusely, still biting down on my lip and choking out moans.

His voice now rang closer to my ear, wet mouth grazing my skin and sending shivers down my spine. “Can you say it, pal? Say you want me to.”

Apparently, he was feeling the same thing as I was; the scene being so unrealistic that I needed constant validation that this was in fact, not a dream, and that Bucky actually wanted these things done to him or by him.

I swallowed hard and let out a deep, guttural sound when his teeth sank into my neck. “Fuck, please, I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckled and let go of his pleasuring grip to run his hand down my thigh, leading it behind me and caressing my bum. I would have complained at the lack of stimulation but before I could, his fingers were opening me up, preparing my entrance. I felt the excitement on every inch of my body and the pulsating pleasure from my core to my spine.

“That’s a filthy mouth, pal.” He said, ironically.

Not only because he had the filthiest mouth I had ever heard talk, but also because pals don’t suck each other’s dicks.

When I felt I was ready, I turned my face around in the most extent position my neck allowed me until he hovered over me and kissed my lips. It gave him room to flip me over anywhere he wanted, but he decided to push me back stomach-first onto the mattress, where he had full access to my back.

He sighed a sound of pure, wicked satisfaction when his fingers ran down my back and my head was pressed against the pillow, face turned on its side so I wouldn’t suffocate. Although I was about to suffocate in more ways than choking. He did that to me, take my breath away like he was some biblical tornado around me cutting off my air supply.

“Come on, Buck.” I insisted he’d go on with it.

He lowered to my back and chuckled before kissing it. Continuingly, my hips were raised by his steady hands. Steadiest hands I’d ever met, and I wished them all over my body. No other questions asked, nor needed being asked, I felt pressure applied to my entrance, then his length sliding inside slowly. I dug my fingers into the pillow and let out any noise of release, pleasure or anything that needed to be expressed at that moment. When we were both comfortable, he thrust into me a few times.

“Fuck, fuck…”

I couldn’t contain anything anymore. He was fucking me and holding my hips in place and caressing my back up and down all the while moaning himself. A few minutes in and my moans became whimpers and I was pleading for something I didn’t even know myself. Sometimes I’d hear Bucky laugh at my incoherence in between his own satisfaction.

“Stevie…” he moaned out, thrusting in harder to please himself. “You’re handling it like a champ, you know?”

If I would have been able to roll my eyes at that moment, I would have. All I could do was sweat and pant and cry out.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up…” I scolded him at the same rhythm of his thrusts.

All of a sudden, his hands were pulling at the crook of my neck, forcing me up where I could barely hold my own weight with my palms against the bedframe, both on our knees. It made the angle much more pressed onto.

I bet if he had been able to shoot a funny comeback, he would have, but by the feeling of his hand clumsily grabbing my neck, then my jaw and holding onto it with shaky fingers, I knew that wasn’t the case. His jitter and stupid hand eventually decided to just hold onto my hair, pulling at it. And God knew how much I enjoyed the tug.

I didn’t let him know when I was close, yet I’m certain he could tell, for I started shaking and didn’t know if I was cursing out _Buck_ or _Fuck_ or just incoherent babbling. He went in faster to accentuate the feeling right before the pressure on my lower stomach released and the sensation of full ecstasy flooded my body. I spurred and leaked everywhere on the sheets and pillow before Buck started to really go at it.

His grip on my hair became more painful and his thrusts sloppier and harder until, right before he started to make me sore, I felt the warmth inside me indicating his orgasm, and he let out a loud sigh.

His breath was hectic, recovering from it all. “God, Stevie. How-?” he couldn’t even finish his own sentence, the amount of data around and inside of him being far too much to process a coherent sentence. “Fuck.”

He helped me up so that my back was pressed against his stomach, his cock slipping off of me while he kissed my shoulder blades and our sweat mixed with each other’s.

“How long have you…?” Bucky’s hand trailed to my chest to hold me in place.

He kept on panting in my ear and biting on my neck and earlobe. I kept my eyes closed, still riding off.

“Quite some time, actually.” I said between breaths. “I never thought you’d actually want to do this.”

His bite became deeper at the sound of that, then detaching to speak directly to the side of my face. “You stupid punk.” He mocked me with a low chuckle. “I’m never gonna  _stop_ doing this.”


End file.
